


A New And Glorious Morn

by mydogwatson



Series: One Fixed Point: 2020 Advent Stories [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Lost and Found, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: The morning after.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: One Fixed Point: 2020 Advent Stories [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035588
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86





	A New And Glorious Morn

**Author's Note:**

> I will not waste your time with an apology for the tardiness of this story. #11 coming on the 23rd is sad. But I am trying and do promise that the full complement of Advent tales will be told. Truth is, I have had a cough for months [not the plague, as this pre-dates it, and I had a negative test a few days ago] and coughing constantly wears one down. I think we are on the brink of a diagnosis though. Anyway, forget that. I hope you will read and enjoy this little offering. Happy holidays!
> 
> Almost forgot again! Prompt: Oh, holy night

...the weary soul rejoices.

-Dwight, J.S.[trans.]

Sherlock was wide awake. “Are you sleeping?” he asked.

“Humph?”

“I was just wondering if you were asleep?”

“Well, not anymore,” John grumped.

“Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter.” John rolled over, ending up pressed against him. He nuzzled a bit. “Umm, your neck smells nice.”

“Your nose is cold.”

“Too bad. You woke me up, so now I can do whatever I like with you.”

Sherlock swallowed. “Can you?”

John stopped the nuzzling. “Let me correct that. I can do whatever we both like with you.”

“Well, I have no complaints thus far,” Sherlock commented.

“Glad to hear it.” 

Sherlock wrapped an arm around John and pulled him closer. “I do owe you a rather large thank you, however.”

“For?”

“For being the brave one. For walking into my bedroom tonight.”

John gave a soft laugh, muffled by Sherlock’s chest. “More desperation than bravery, I think.”

“Whatever.” Sherlock settled back into the pillow, bringing John with him. A certain mood had slipped over him. Philosophical? Possibly. Surely not sentimental. “I never thought I could have something like this.”

“Like ‘this’?”

“Someone...with me.” One hand rubbed a slow circle on John’s back. 

Sherlock suddenly remembered a conversation from a very long time ago.

_He and Mycroft, sitting on a bench in Green Park. He was ten, Mycroft a condescending brat of seventeen, soon to be off to Cambridge. They were idling about London until it was time to meet Mummy and Daddy for lunch at Simpson’s. Across the lawn, a wedding party was posing for photographs ._

_Sherlock thought everyone looked very happy in their formal clothing, smiling for the camera._

_“It won’t last, you know,” Mycroft said pompously. “All the so-called happy ever after.”_

_“How do you know?” Sherlock asked._

_“The groom keeps making eye contact with the maid of honour. I expect they’re having an affair.”_

_Sherlock sneered at him. “You’re making that up.”_

_Mycroft only smiled in that superior Eton way. Then he gestured dismissively towards the wedding party. “I will never marry.”_

_“Every woman in the world just cheered,” Sherlock said with a giggle._

_“How droll you are.”_

_Sherlock turned serious. “I will be on my ship. No girls allowed,” Sherlock announced. “Just my crew. And my first mate, Redbeard, of course.”_

_The wedding party was leaving now, heading for several limousines waiting nearby._

_“I hope you will keep to that idea,” Mycroft said. “A man who travels alone travels best.”_

_Sherlock was not sure about that, but he did not bother to argue with his brother. Sometimes he thought it would be nice to have a friend, like Redbeard, but human. That was his secret._

_Mycroft noticed the time and jumped to his feet. They had to hurry to Simpson’s or risk being late for lunch._

Such a meaningless conversation. He should just delete it completely.

John nudged him. “You still here with me?”

Sherlock dismissed the past as irrelevant. “Always,” he said softly.

The kiss started slowly, still a sort of exploration.

Sherlock liked that idea. There was so much to explore between the two of them, an entire universe of new planets. It was...exciting to contemplate.

But not at the moment.

Because at the moment, John was slowly, deliberately moving his mouth down Sherlock’s body and that required all of his attention.

*

It was dawn by the time he woke again.

John was snoring lightly, one hand resting on Sherlock’s abdomen. This time, Sherlock let him sleep and just slipped from the bed. He grabbed his dressing gown and went into the sitting room to stand at the window. The Christmas lights around Speedy’s window had been left on and were flickering in the grey morning.

He had watched the sun rise over Baker Street too many times to count. So often, he had been exhausted in a way that went far beyond simple body weariness. If he accepted the concept, he might have called it soul weariness. He’d been so tired of searching without knowing what was lost, of _wanting_ without understanding what it was he yearned for.

But now, watching the pale winter sun just peeking over the horizon, Sherlock felt a quiet celebration within, an unexpected rejoicing. This was a new kind of dawn.

He leant his forehead against the chilly glass and let himself relax for the first time in so long.

And only a few minutes later, he felt two strong arms go around him and warm breath on his neck.

**


End file.
